Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Hole in My Sock

I took my shoe off and there it was staring back at me, my naked heel. What happened to my sock? It was there this morning. Now it was gone it had just vanished. How does a complete heel disappear? That seemed out of kilter to me. Socks should not be allowed to disintegrate without warning. When the brakes on our cars begin to go bad there is a piece of metal that give us a warning, you know that hideous screeching sound? Surely as long as folks have been making socks one would think heels would not just up and disappear.
What if I was Muslim and went to a mosque for my mid day prayers? I am pretty sure they have to take their shoes off before prayers – that would be a bit embarrassing, don’t you think? What if I had stopped on my way home from work to buy a new pair of shoes? Well I think you get the idea. It would have been bad – all bad.
Now this is the real problem – sorry it took two paragraphs to get to it. I have a sock drawer full of socks without mates. You want to know how this happens? Please, you don’t really know? It is simple - having the same sock drawer for twenty years… you got it now? Good!
Now if a burglar was to break into my house, you know the first place he will head for? That’s right my sock drawer. Ninety-two percent of all people hid their secret stash in their sock drawer. Burglars aren’t dumb they know these things. Maybe after he became discouraged in not finding any bills he might use his observational skills honed from years of thievery and might notice all the unmarried socks. I am pretty sure he/she would think a one legged man must live here. Then he might wonder where the home owner buys socks for just one foot. That mystery could ruin his whole day and that wouldn’t be very nice would it?

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Young Folks at Times Need Old Folks

I noticed as I walked by the pile was not very high. She had been working for a couple of hours, I reasoned the pile should have been 4 or 5 times higher by this point. On my way back I stopped to have a few words with the young lady? "How are you doing Angie?"
"I’m okay."
She was not okay. The slumped shoulders, dull drooping eyes, the slow movement, reminded me of a working sleeper. Pulling up a chair I began working opposite her at the table. As we talked, I watched her with interest and within a few minutes her speed had surpassed mine. She told me of the university she hoped to attend next fall, the classes she wanted to take first. As she talked her eyes began to flash and that great Angie smile began to emerge. The voice went from boredom to full of energy. We worked together for 15 – 20 minutes before I left and went back to my office.
Sitting at my desk I let my mind fade back to my youth where an old man taught me how an old guy can work alongside a struggling young person and give him back his hope. A landscape of debris stretched out around me. It was a mountain sized clean up job; a near finished apartment complex of several hundred units and it was my job to pick up every scrap of wood and paper. The sun had long past beaten the hope out of me and I like Angie was slogging along slowly at the never ending task. The boss, a man in his seventies saw my grubbing along and began to work alongside me asking me questions, telling me about his pet peeve lumber waste. Holding up a 12 inch piece of siding – see this? 15 cents and it is worthless except for the scrape pile. We worked together for an hour and the progress was significant. He then left me to work on my own. Now and then he came back and would work alongside of me for a few minutes. He never once shamed me for being lazy but only praised me when he saw improvement.
As I checked on Angie during the day her speed would now and then drop and once again we would work together. The second day I only needed to sit with her once. By the third day she no longer needed this old guy, she now knew how to work at a high level of production without losing her hope.
Young people sometimes need older folks to help them change their perspective.
I am grateful for the old man. He could of brow beat me but he had the wisdom to know I had been doing plenty of my own personal brow beating. He knew what I needed and he gave it to me. Maybe you will someday find a young person who needs a little hope. Your example will be much more powerful than your words. Stop, help him/her out, work alongside and watch them change – it’s pretty exciting.

Friday, September 25, 2009

Homemade Ice Cream

I should be so happy right this minute, I used my whole day for others. First I made them all ice cream, then I watched them eat my ice cream, then I cleaned it all up, and then I brought home what was left just so others would not over indulge – Yes, very selfless. After all that you might say along with Homer, “Why are you so dreary, Grayquill?”
Do you think it could be your fault, Homer? DO YOU THINK? Why did you have to eat 5 bowls of ice cream? This is my body you are affecting – did you forget that?”
Loud sigh. . . “It was home-MADE ice cream!! That's what it's for - eating. Besides, the bowls were so small.”
“Oh, as compared to what… large cooking bowls? Homer my stomach hurts and I am pretty sure my pancreas is working double time trying to balance everything out from your idiocy. “
“Well, I am pretty sure you are exaggerating. I don’t know what you’re so mad about – you made the ice cream, I only ate it.”
“Well, did you think just maybe someone else might have wanted a taste?”
Gee-whiz Grayquill, you better calm down before you have a coronary from all that heavy cream you consumed. Did you forget those six other people who also ate your precious ice cream? Some of them had seconds. Why, was I not allowed seconds?”
“Tap you helmet, it is the fourth and fifth were talking about here.”
“Oh… D’OH! Grayquill’s always picking on me.”
Well who’s to say who ate the ice cream? Maybe the real question is, was that self talk or just an imaginary friend?
You could be the judgmental type, and say some smart-alecky comment about how the ice cream is not the real problem; what we need here is a shrink. And, I would say to that – if you are just now figuring that out maybe you need the shrink. Personally, another bowl of ice cream sounds pretty gosh darn good about now.
You could be the type that says, “Can I have the receipt?” And, I would say in my grumpy mood. Stop being so lazy and go look it up, it’s on page 202 of Betty Crocker.
Maybe you’re the type that says, I don’t see what’s so weird about that – I have several imaginary friends myself. And of course my response to that would be – this was not real, go call a shrink. Then come on over and we will finish off the ice cream.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Dead Brain Cells. . .

Dead brain cells. . . No not from drinking; maybe from breathing alcohol fumes for all those years. I know you’re wondering, what? Don’t worry about it, it’s not important – printing, offset, ink & water balance – ph 5.0 and 15-20 percent alcohol; rollers spinning, alcohol evaporating, eight to ten hours a day 5-6 days a week twenty years, breathing in and out. Maybe a few brain cells were killed off – the point is this – dead brain cells.
That’s my excuse and I am sticking to it for not having a mid week post.
Sunday evening, I did catch a 4-5 lb. pink (humpy) salmon in the Snohomish River with my friend M in his pee wee sized Livingston 8 ft boat, which we over loaded by 65 lbs plus gear. I told him we couldn’t afford to catch to many fish or we would sink. That is why we kept it to one fish each. Did I just see an eyebrow or two raise? Hey in all my posts have you ever known me to make anything up, exaggerate or just flat out lie? Well…there you go. I am glad that’s settled.
The quality of a pink is, well, not all that great. They are bit slimy kind of like a brook trout and they smell a bit bad. So, I smoked my one fish and ate some of it for dinner tonight. The wife walked by while I was mixing a spread out of it. She goes, wooeee smells bad. She elected to forgo a tasty treat. As my mom use to say, ‘All the more for me.’
Fisherman, I know are nothing but liars so here is a picture just to keep things on the up an up.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Is That Shirt Dirty?

Rain tapping its methodic beat, swirling gusts ripping leaves from trees, fall is almost here. Grayquill has sat writing on many a nice summer day and finally he gets to write guilt free. Yahoo!! Of course there is that thing…. “Grayquill…GRAYQUILL! Are you listening? I would sure appreciate you doing your chores this week.”
Grayquill nodded and smiled, “Sure honey, no problem, have a nice day,” inward brief thought, ‘Yah, Yah, Yah…ugh leave me alone.’
Those points where differences and expectations clash are what? Conflict – Ouch! Mystery seeps and weeps with confusion how two people with such a wide gulf in expectations actually end up married.
Grayquill seems to be fine vacuuming once every six months to a year; whereas Mrs. Grayquill can only tolerate a vacuuming schedule that at a minimum hits every week. It should be set out right here Grayquill has never been able to test his six month theory, although he would like to.
How did these two ever marry? For the first twenty years or so, Grayquill reasoned, if she likes dirt less, we should use simple logic, let her follow her desire and vacuum to her heart’s content. Grayquill did his best to keep the vacuum cleaner maintenanced and operating smoothly. Under this set up Grayquill felt the world was in balance. Now and then, Grayquill would vacuum if guests were coming or if there wasn’t a kid he could recruit. Mrs. Grayquill noticed Grayquill was taller, stronger, and it took much less effort for him to vacuum. It did not take her twenty years to figure out this bit of wisdom but it did take twenty plus years before she finagled Grayquill into doing it regularly.
Laundry is another issue. Grayquill seems to think, letting it fall where he takes it off is a good plan. It really it isn’t so bad since he takes things off pretty much in the same place every day and a pile forms no more than five feet by five feet. His reasoning is logical. When it is time to do the laundry all the clothes are right there and easily rounded up. If something is going to be worn again in a day or two it is a total waste of time to hang it up, it’s right there waiting for him. Leaning over picking it up off the floor is so simple and such a big time saver. Some would say that clothes on the floor are dirty, hmmm….let’s talk about that. Now, Grayquill has heard from other men and he has noticed women do the smell test to see if something is dirty where a man examines the shirt and if there isn’t any hot sauce or some other blight on the shirt it’s clean. A man would never do the smell test because he knows his shirt will have some marking on it way before it smells bad. Besides, who is up that close to smell him anyway? It should only be his wife, right? Every man knows if he begins to smell, his wife will say something like, “Don’t even think about getting into this bed until you shower.”
Now that I have thought it through, I still have no idea how two people so different could marry but for the man at least, I conclude it’s a good thing. What do you think?
Gotta go - time to do chores. D’OH!

Oh, one last thought, if you are man who picks things up and puts thing where they belong...Grayquill thnks you're a girly man.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Faithful and Consistent

You will find me sitting faithful and consistent off to one side of the family room, there I do nothing but rock and observe. It is quite a perspective of Grayquill’s household. Nothing really gets by me and it is amazing what humans do when they think no one is watching. The places they scratch, the noises they make, the disgusting drool I have seen slipping out of the side of Grayquill’s mouth onto those couch pillows would make your toes curl. I can tell you one thing I am glad those nasty pillows stay on the couch. If you ever come to visit I suggest you sit on me and stay away from those pillows.
Grayquill and the cat have been quite civil to each other today, a refreshing change. Grayquill’s wife just walked through her feet vibrating an unmistakably harsher pace than normal. I notice Grayquill’s back muscles tightening and his rocking increased. I wonder what he did now; he and I will probably be getting plenty of quality time together tonight. Ugh…, don’t worry I am strong enough to hold him up; it just gets a little tiring as he keeps gaining weight. If he would just humble himself and apologize he could sleep in a nice soft bed but I know him he will hang onto his pride and suffer. I hate to call him this but he’s kind of a dough head sometimes.
The privileged position I hold in the Grayquill household allows me to get to know each person quite intimately. Let me tell you a secret – girls pass gas just as often as boys do. That visiting thing, now that I think about it, you might want to sit somewhere else.
Do not underestimate my value to the Grayquill house, I hold an important place. I cannot tell you the number of hours I have spent holding and rocking a sad person; they seek out my softness for comfort. I am getting old now but I have mastered the ability to calm and comfort one who is sick with the flu or just in a funk. It is really easy now that I have grown squashy and worn to wrap my soft arms close and be a firm steady help. All the household members have at one time or another allowed a searing tear to drop from check to arm while I provide comfort. Not only do I comfort; I usually am the focal point of important family discussions, you see Grayquill sits on me during those times. Family meetings happen when Grayquill gets cranky. Mostly he does the majority of the talking and his kids, well when his kids lived here, they would watch a bug crawl across the ceiling or count the bricks on the fireplace until Grayquill had vented it all out. I could tell Grayquill felt better after those meetings. I am no doctor but it seemed to me his blood pressure would drop at least 20 points. I think most of the time Grayquill’s kids were silent during those meetings because they knew Grayquill just needed to let it all out. Those kids are a bit smarter than Grayquill and they worked him pretty good. Grayquill was never the wiser about those kid’s workings.
The number of movies I have seen has been a bunch. Grayquill is so funny; in fact his kids call him quirky, a perfect description. Did you know he watched “The Kid” at least 8 times and frankly I lost count to, “Remember the Titans.” He watches those Southern Gospel videos over and over. I’ll tell you a secret but don’t tell Grayquill, I sometimes watch his music videos along with Hobbes (that’s his cat, only he just calls him Cat) when Grayquill is not home. I kinda like that Southern Gospel sound especially those real low base singers.
You should stop by sometime, Grayquill’s wife is real great cook. Now Grayquill on the other hand is horrible. The stuff he eats….well all I can say is I sure wish he wouldn’t sit on me when he eats those nasty creations, the fallout is finishing me off.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

From Gray to Color

Sitting with a blank screen in front of me I looked up to this scene, sunlight glistening reflecting a spectrum of color, a faint wisp of a breeze came by greeting my face, birds here and there are belting out their cords. It is a peaceful morning.
“I found your new home, you need to come right now! “ Those were the words of my brother and realtor almost 20 years ago. Jumping into my car I was off in a flash but with dubious expectations. Houses were selling faster than hotcakes at a fireman’s fundraiser. When a good one came up you had to be ready to act or it was gone.
A few months earlier tragedy had struck my family. My wife and I decided a change in scenery was part of what was needed. We had been looking for a new home for a good two months. I knew instantly this was a great deal and would serve the purpose.
When tragedy came I railed at God with blame, irrational thoughts and words I am glad He forgives. At the time I was plodding through the days in anger, just doing what I could, hoping it was the right thing. Who knows how to wade through deep loss and grief? Who knows how to bandage up deep emotional wounds? What husband and father understands what is the right way to take his family? I for sure did not. Hurt this deep and this horrific was beyond any man’s understanding to fix, but my wife and I knew doing nothing would not serve us well. I can still remember thinking, ‘getting a new house might help’. She seemed to know more instinctual the right way to go. During those beginning months I followed her lead more than I really want to admit. A man likes to think he is the strong one and the leader but it was her.
Now looking back I can see the many ways God was caring and orchestrating circumstances that went beyond mere coincidences. Each one alone was easily explained away as a lucky moment but the composite made God’s love and work shine through like the morning sun. This home was one of his brush strokes in His masterpiece of healing. What makes it unique is the beautiful spot it sits. Friends and family marvel at the peacefulness; the beauty strikes their eyes shocking their senses. I did not see the beauty of the place when we bought it. My slogging from day to day had eliminated color, the best way I can describe it, the world was a drab gray.

I believe now, what a man may not be conscious of, his subconscious takes in. God used the beauty of his creation over and over to shout at me, “I am good.” My conscious mind would hear none of it but my subconscious was soaking it in.
I can still remember the day I saw color again. It struck me in a quiet way while I was driving down the road. It was a moment much like this morning when the shades of green reflected off leaves, branches, and bark from the morning sun. It had been so long since I had seen color I was struck by that moment. All through the day and into the next I kept recalling the beauty - I was healing.
Do you have deep hurt or deep loss you are carrying? May I suggest? Find the beauty of God’s creation and let him shout out to you, “I am still good.” His ways are higher than man’s ways he cares for you beyond what we can think or imagine and underneath are his everlasting arms.
Jesus says in the scripture, “Come unto me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” ~Matthew 11:28-29 NIV

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Boys Water and Mud

Fall rains filled the seasonal stream nearby and it was irresistible to a young Grayquill. Dams, mud, neighbor boys and a little brother to direct, made the possibilities endless. Grayquill laid awake at night planning the next bigger and better dam. Grayquill had one problem at age eight it was those new Red Wing boots his father had bought him to start school with. Along with the new boots was responsibility and instructions, “The very first thing you are to do when you get home from school is change into you old boots before going out to play.”
“Okay, sure dad, I’ll do it”
Let me stop here for a little perspective. My father had not more than a year earlier auctioned off all his farm equipment and move his six children to the Pacific Northwest. He had no trade, the work he found paid less than a wife and six children needed, the auction money was mostly if not completely used up. Nothing extra was bought during that time. Good boots were a thing my dad would spend money on even for a small boy. My dad and I had sat and greased those new boots and he taught me how to care for them.
Walking home from the bus stop took so long, Grayquill was anxious to not waste any of the remaining daylight hours after arriving home. Forgetting his father’s instructions he dropped his school stuff and headed out the back door to where his friends waited. Down the hill across the street and into the deep gully the boys went. The water was thrilling as they watched it rushing by. Rocks soon were being tossed into the chosen spot but they were directly swept away. Obviously boulders were needed, not fist sized rocks. Four or five small boys can be exceedingly productive and soon had maneuvered boulders into the stream, they held. Now came the smaller fist sized rocks filling in the cracks. Little by little the passage way for the water became narrower and narrower and the water began backing up. It wasn’t long before the water began pouring over the top of their dam and it became clear it would need to be higher. A bigger base of boulders would be required. After two hours of dam building in the rain and mud, Grayquill and his brother heard their fathers whistle calling them to dinner.
Dad met the boys at the back door. Both were made to strip, change into clean clothes, and then came the spanking for not changing the boots.
The next day brought more rain, and phase two of the dam was at the top of Grayquill’s agenda. Rushing into the house dropping his school stuff and straight out the back door went Grayquill minus his brother. Brother was changing his clothes and boots. Grayquill didn’t really even notice his brother had not followed. For he was focused on water, new boulders, giving direction to the neighborhood boys which boulder should go where. The two hours passed quickly and covered from head to toe in mud and grit came his father’s whistle calling him to dinner. Out of the gully he crawled caked in mud. Grayquill’s dad meet him at the back door and this time the spanking came even before the dirty soggy clothes could be extricated. Grayquill remembers that spanking hurting a bit more than the day before. Hmmm…could it have been his bum was still a bit tender from the previous day’s paddling?
The next day brought more rain, and phase three of the dam was at the top of Grayquill’s agenda. Rushing into the house dropping his school stuff and out the back door he went…Well I think you get the picture. Grayquill heard the whistle, Dad met Grayquill at the back door and another spanking occurred. Grayquill’s father sure was consistent. Grayquill remembers this paddling hurt considerably more than the previous two.
The next day brought more rain, and phase four of the dam was at the top of Grayquill’s agenda. Rushing into the house dropping his school stuff and heading toward the back door, Grayquill stopped and changed his boots.
Now you have heard a boot tale. D’OH!

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Sixty-Two Cousins

Sixty two cousins and that is just on my mom’s side. No, we weren’t Catholic or Mormon - we started out Mennonite. Many of my cousins still follow the Mennonite traditions but most have moved to other protestant denominations, some attend no church at all and a few claim to be Atheists or Agnostics. Many of the first cousins are now grandparents.
This is the group that made up Grayquill’s family reunion last month. Out of the eleven uncles and aunts the oldest is 93 and the youngest, hmmm…I don’t know, how about 70? Neither attended the reunion but my aunt at 91 years old did, along with five of her siblings. Out of the eleven only one has passed on.
My favorite part was seeing cousins that I had not seen for 40 years, doing so well, with great families and living life with a strong faith and trust in the Creator and our Savior Jesus Christ. I had to laugh at myself when I met JS again I was sure he would have ended up in jail. He now had 8 children, I can’t remember how many grandchildren but watching those little ones crawling all over him, hugging on his neck was a delight I cherish.
Stories were told of great sorrow, great hardship, and not talked about scattered along the way are two cousins that had been killed in car accidents, and, two other cousins that died shortly after their birth.
An aunt talked about the difficulty of when Grandpa left the home when child number eleven was just nine months old. She told of the creativity and diligence Grandma used in keeping that gaggle feed and clothed. No store bought underwear was in that house hold. Grandma sewed them all out of old flour sacks. Old coats were acquired and then ripped apart, re-sewn with the inside turned out and the liner then sewn back in making the garment look nearly new. And she told how late at night grandma would gather up hole worn shoes and put on new soles so they would be ready to be worn the next morning.
An uncle told how the boys at age fourteen were sent out to work and how all their earnings had to be sent home to help the family but at age eighteen they were then allowed to keep half of their pay.
Mennonite folks learn to harmonize early. So, when the singing started we were all there singing the old hymns. Instruments of several kinds came out of their cases a violin, mandolin, and several guitars played background. For several songs I bowed my head and just listened to the musical praise right along with the angels.
Grayquill’s family reunion was a great time to recount where he came from and to be grateful for a heritage passed down that came with no little ease.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Max Aswell Speaks Again

I’m back –Yes, it’s me Mr. Max Aswell at your service. First off I would be remiss if I went any further and did not thank those of you who said such nice things about me. FYI – it kinda rankled Grayquill. I heard him saying,” they like that cur more than they like me.” Hee hee hee… that’s gotta make you smile. Usually I only hear encouragement from Abe, so your words sent me over the top and I chewed on my tennis ball today in heavenly bliss.
Now if you sense my mood changing I am sorry, I will do my best to stay up beat. But, this story makes tail wagging a chore. I love my master Abe but I just don’t get it, why he sticks with this Grayquill fellow. A few months back it was Grayquill’s birthday. Now, I understand birthdays real well, I don’t really know what they are but I like them. My master floods me with treats and chewy toys on that day and says they are birthday presents. Except for my last birthday I got a collar with my name engraved on it. That seemed pretty crummy to me, I think Abe wanted me to have a collar a whole lot more than I did. I prefer running around in the buff, a collar is just so confining. Opps! Was that bad blog etiquette? I’m so embarrassed.
What's coming next Grayquill didn’t even have to steal; it was a gift from my master, Abe. He spent many hours on Grayquill’s birthday present. Things that Abe does do not really surprise me anymore. I am use to his brilliant creativity. Abe wears me out some days. He wants me to get all excited about his new inventions. I do love going with him into the mountains as he does what he calls testing. But this present for Grayquill kept us in the house and away from the mountains – another reason not to like Grayquill - Fun Spoiler- maybe that should be his new name.
My favorite place for a nap is in my master’s office, in the summer it’s cool and in the winter a nice space heater keeps me warm. I usually sleep right beside Abe just so he can reach over and scratch my ears now and then – it helps him when he touches me – I don’t really get it but if it helps him, I will lie close. I will do most anything for Abe.
The present for Grayquill got to be a little irritating, only because Abe had to tell me about each part along the way. It seemed like I would just get to sleep and suddenly and loudly, “Max, listen to this, ‘In need of a quick pick me up. You drank 67 cups of Chi Tea. Three hours later they found you passed out in your TeePee. Draw one clue card and loose one turn’. ” Abe laughed and laughed – I just went back to sleep what is so funny about a TeePee.
Later, “Max, what do you think of this one? ‘Ask the person on you left what is Grayquill’s second favorite seat. If they say the toilet, they get to draw a donut card. If they say anything other than the toilet you get to draw a card’. Again the laughter rolled out like my long tongue licking Abe’s face especially after he eats ice cream. I didn’t even get to sleep before he piped in with this less than brilliant bit. “Hey Max listen up, ‘Dick Chenney starts a new career with Warner Bros. Studios! Dick Cheney will now be playing the part of Elmer Fudd in all the Bugs Bunny cartoons. According to Warner, ‘Dick is the kind of guy who isn’t afraid to pull the trigger, on anybody.’ Draw one clue card.” I guess even I need to admit that was kinda funny - I'm sure glad Mr. Cheney is not my master, I might not have survived to write this.
You are probably getting the idea Abe made a game for Grayquill called, The Legend of Grayquill. I am only a dog and I don’t play board games and much of what Abe told me I didn’t understand.
I heard Grayquill thought it was really cool. Well I only told you all that because I wanted you to know my master Abe is a really cool friend – even though I don’t think Grayquill deserves such a friend. I think what he did for Grayquill probably was a great thing. Humans for the most part are a bit complex so I just take them as they come. I guess having your own personal game is about like me having a big t-bone steak all to myself.
If any of Grayquill’s blogger friends want to play The Legend of Grayquill – you will have to visit him.
Oh…BTW – Grayquill says it will be a cold day in very hot place before I get to come play on his blog again. So I guess this is good bye. I think he is jealous that you all like me so much. He really needs to get a life and get over it. One would think with 7 billion humans on the earth Grayquill could get at least a couple of friends. Trolley lah…I am off. Abe and I will be heading to do some testing in the mountains.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Max Aswell Speaks

Good evening – My name is Max Aswell. My master is Abe or Digger, actually his name changes depending on what he is up to. Before we go too far down this tale, I would like to explain my name for those who are a little slow in word speak. It is pronounced Max-As-well. Do you get it now? OMG come on, am I talking to a bunch of duffers? Okay, I will explain it for the slow ones in the group. Before me there was a different Max but he was just plain Max. There came a time when just plain Max passed on to Max-world. I came to Abe’s house about a month later. I was just a pup but Abe says I look just like first Max. So, Abe calls me Max Aswell. Now that is my formal name for weddings, legal papers and such, normally Abe just calls me Max.
One of my first memories was when Grayquill came to visit. I remember looking up and seeing his hairy face. I thought he looked really old. Recently he shaved and now he only has a mustache, the wrinkles are appalling; he’s older and uglier than I thought. I really don’t like Grayquill all that well. He always takes my chair when he comes over and he calls me Maxine (Grayquill is so mean). I think he does it just to bug me. I would bite him but I don’t want to dishonor my master. The other reason he bugs me is he steals all of my master’s ideas. I think Grayquill might be a bit slow he can’t seem to think up anything on his own – maybe I should feel sorry for him.
One of the more famous thievery ideas he stole was valentine’s presents for his kids. My master thought this up and let it slip; Grayquill didn’t even blink when he stole it. Since I am about to tell you this idea I guess you can use it – apparently Grayquill’s kids remember this Valentine’s Day with fond memories. Go to your local bakery and buy as many large loaves of French bread as you have kids. Turn the bread upside down cut the bottom out. Dig out most of the doughy bread from the inside of the loaf. Now fill the inside of the loaf with candy and place the bottom piece back on the bottom of the loaf. Tell your kids the economic times have been tough and the only valentines present you could afford was a loaf of bread. I guess when Grayquill did this his one daughter cried. Now, personally I think any idea that makes little children cry is horrible but Grayquill apparently doesn’t care all that much about his kid’s feelings. Come to think about it the next time he comes over I am going to bite him on the ankle.
Stay tuned I might be back – I’m not sure if I am finished yet. I might have more to say when Grayquill’s not paying attention. Something happened just today I can’t wait to tell you. You won’t believe it.